No Man Is An Island
by louvreangel
Summary: Post-TRF. Molly is kidnapped and Sherlock doesn't know what to do. Does he care enough for her to go save her, or does he not give a damn? -Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue

_**A/N:**_ _English is not my native tongue so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing but this fanfiction. All rights go to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC and Steven Moffat. _

**Prologue**

"Sherlock!" It was clear that he was angry. Angry at him. The guy with no feelings. Some called him_ freak_, some cold him _the virgin_ and some called him _robot_. At this point, John Watson, for the first time since he met him, agreed to those words. They totally described him. Sherlock Holmes. How could someone not feel something when he is being told that a _friend_ of them is _lost_?

John's loud, angry voice was what brought Sherlock back from his mind palace. He searched for the word "lost" as if he was the stupidest person on the planet. But it wasn't because he did't understand the meaning of the word. It was because he didn't want to _accept it_. He didn't want to accept the fact that _she _was lost. For _a day_ now.

"Why are you still standing there like a statue? We got to do something! _I said_, I am going to the police station to talk to Lestrade. Are you coming?" John repeated himself, louder this time. He felt like he was actually talking to a deaf person.

"No." Was Sherlock's only answer. "I will try to find out what really happened."

"By standing there?" John sighed and talked louder. "Why are you doing this? Don't you care for her?"

"Alone is what I have. Alone protects me." He repeated himself like a parrot. He said these same exact words before he jumped off from St. Barts' rooftop.

This time, John didn't even bother to answer him and left without saying another word. He knew Sherlock would come to his senses anyway.

* * *

_**24 Hours Ago**_

"B—but you… You died. I checked your pulse…" Was all Molly could say when she saw the deadman standing right in front of her.

"C'mon Molls, you know I'm much more smarter than that."

"No." She breathed.

He touched her hair and caressed it gently. "Now, please, I need you to come with me. Don't make this harder for me Molly because I really don't wanna hurt you."

Tears started falling down from her cheeks as he wiped them away with this thumb. He led her the way and they both got into his car, slowly driving in the dark alleys of London. She had no idea where they were going but she didn't really care. What worried her was the fact that she was totally going to be tortured by this psychopath beside her. Even though he held her hand in his—forcibly—it didn't give her any comfort at all. He was not trustable. Because he wasn't Jim from IT anymore. He was Moriarty. Sherlock's nemesis. Molly's ex-boyfriend—which sounds really funny in this situation.

"Sherlock wouldn't come for me, Jim." Said Molly when she was finally fed up with the weird silence in the car. She knew why she was being taken; to be interrogated. It was just after two months of Sherlock's return and she was already in a car with Moriarty—the guy who everybody knew to be dead. At this point, once more Moriarty proved he was smarter. More evil. She cursed herself for not doing an autopsy on him.

Moriarty looked at her with a grin on his face. "You saved his life, Molly. He owes you. He will come. If not him, John will come. Or Greg. Or someone. But, my love, someone will eventually come looking for you. And when that time comes, they will find you in my arms, bleeding."

Molly was having a hard time trying to breathe. "Bleeding?"

Moriarty laughed at her. "We both know you are not going to say a word, love. Besides, I already know where he lives, where he goes everyday. I know everything about him." Then he moved closer to her and whispered in her ear. "The thing is, I just want to watch him _suffer_. And kill him once and for all. You know, he can't fake his death with he doesn't have _you_."

"Please, Jim. Please."

He nibbled her earlobe. She could feel his breath on her neck and it didn't feel good at all. It used to feel good but now she hated it. That's why when she punched his arm as hard as she could, she didn't regret it… until she was punched back.

* * *

_**So, what do you think? Would think this fanfiction work? I mean, I really would like to keep writing this. & I'd like to use yours reviews as an inspiration. That's why pleaseeee leave a review, it's not that hard. Thank you for reading so much and I hope you like it. **_

_**Xoxo Louvreangel**_


	2. Somebody Help Me

_**A/N:**_ _English is not my native tongue so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing but this fanfiction. All rights go to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC and Steven Moffat. _

* * *

Sherlock sat there for hours, thinking about all the posibilities that could have happened to Molly. They said she was lost. For someone like Molly, she couldn't have just lost her way back home. No. There was more to it. It was obvious she didn't leave town for a holiday or something like that because her suitcase was still under her bed. Plus, she didn't take her toothbrush or make up stuff with her either. All the evidence in this house led to one thing; she was kidnapped. And yes, Sherlock was in Molly's house. He broke into her house because it would take a long time before Lestrade or John came here to investigate. And they had no time to lose so Sherlock acted quick.

He was about to leave the house when his phone started to ring. He looked at the screen to see Molly's number.

"Molly?" He answered, his voice cracked with excitement. Maybe she wasn't actually kidnapped.

"_Hello again Sherlock_." Nope, she was kidnapped.

Sherlock had to swallow twice before being able to answer that so-familiar voice on the other line of the phone. "Moriarty?"

* * *

_**2 Hours Ago**_

Molly was sitting by the fireplace in the big dining room of this mansion they arrived a few minutes ago. Moriarty took her phone away from her when they were in the car and now she had nothing to do but wait. She wasn't sure Sherlock would come looking for her. She wasn't sure if she trusted Sherlock enough to keep her insanity safe in this mansion with that psychopath.

"How is my precious little toy doing?" Moriarty asked with a singing voice as he approached Molly.

"I am not your precious little toy, you sick _bastard_." Molly hissed at him, trying to hold her tears back. She had to act brave even though she was feeling terrified inside.

Moriarty laughed at her answer and sat right beside her on the couch. Molly cursed herself for not choosing the single seating armchair.

"Awww, is little Molly still angry about the punch? But you know, mine was self defense." Moriarty said and laughed again. His evil laughter was making her feel more and more scared every second.

"It's a shame though." He approached her more. Their faces were inches away now. Molly wanted to back away but Moriarty put his hand on her neck, not letting her go. "I thought you actually liked me."

Molly started crying silently. Moriarty could feel her tears dripping down on his arm and he didn't like it. He had this weird weakness against crying women. He was a psychopath who enjoyed killing and torturing people both physically and mentally, yes, but when it came to crying women he was like an angel. This was another side of him Molly never knew of.

"I'm sorry Molls. Please, don't cry." He whispered against her lips.

Molly looked right into his eyes to see sadness in those puppy eyes. She was about to say something really harsh when someone entered the room.

"Sir, it is time." The tall man said and Moriarty left the room with him. The last thing Molly saw was that he was dialing a number on Molly's phone.

* * *

_**Present**_

"Dammit!" Sherlock yelled and threw all the papers on the table to the ground. Lestrade and John just stared at him as Sherlock kept yelling, barking at people to do this, to do that and more. He was angry and for the first time, he didn't know what to do. They finally came to the conclusion that she was kidnapped by the man who everybody knew to be dead; James Moriarty. He wanted revenge, that was for sure, but using Molly… It was meaningless. He didn't have any feelings for her after all… right?

"Sherlock, stop it." John finally had enough of this shit. Sherlock was acting like a little kid who didn't get a birthday present and it was annoying. Molly went missing and all they found out so far was that it was Moriarty's doing. Oh and they got the information of James Moriarty being alive from himself, who called Sherlock a while ago from Molly's phone. The only thing he did was to listen to what that maniac said. But none of what he said made sense. He was talking with puzzles and everything, just to make sure Sherlock used his mind to the biggest depths of it.

Sherlock sighed and sat on one of the chairs. "I don't know what to do, John. My mind… is not working anymore. It's like… it has stopped like a ticking clock… I have no clue where they keep Molly and the time is passing. They might do something to her and I might not be able to help her."

"Sherlock—" It was Lestrade who wanted to say something but was cut off by Sherlock.

"She helped me. She helped me all along… And now I can't even figure out where they took her."

John and Lestrade shared a look but none of them said anything. They knew that despite everything he said, he cared about her. At least he felt grateful to her for helping him fake his death. When nobody trusted him, when _almost_ everybody thought he was a _fake_, she stood by his side. Helped him through everything, let him stay at her house. Even when he was going to reveal himself to everyone, she was with him. People yelled at him, John tried to punch him but she stopped all of them. She explained everything to them, told them it was the only logical solution.

"We will find her, Sherlock. I promise you." John said softly. Sherlock looked up at him and nodded. They were going to find her. They had to.

"Wait!" Sherlock suddenly shouted. His brain started working fast again and from what he deducted from Molly's house, he could find where she was taken. "I think I know where she is. But we have to get another call from Moriarty, then I can be certain."

* * *

Molly, after a long while stopped crying and ate the meal one of the maids brought her. She was hungry and enjoyed the meal. It was only her in the room and she was desperately waiting for someone to come for her. She got up and stood right in front of the window, looking outside. The weather was foggy and slightly raining.

She sighed when she heard the room's door open.

"You bring me peace for some reason, Molly. I think it's because of your calm nature." Moriarty said and laughed. He just loved to make fun of Molly.

"I hope you die in pain." Molly hissed at him. Oh how much she wished he would die in pain, bleeding and crying, begging for mercy. These thoughts were actually very barbarous but when it came to this guy, they were normal thoughts anyone could have.

Moriarty's laughter died with that sentence as his face gone cold, eyes sparkling with anger. "You're in my house, with me. How dare you talk to me like that, _mousy Molly_?"

Molly bit her lip nervously as he continued. "How dare you act like that to me?" he was walking towards her and it scared her. She started walking backwards until she was pinned against the wall behind her. She cursed herself for this mistake and closed her eyes for the worst. She could now feel his breath on her face. It was scary but it was familiar. She could hear his scent, cigarettes and whiskey. It was just too familiar for her liking.

"If you don't start respecting me, I will have to hurt you. And it won't be just a punch to the face like before. You know what I'm capable of, Molly. Don't force me to do bad things to you." he finished talking.

Molly didn't answer him and started praying that someone would find her _soon_.

* * *

_**Hi everyone! I know this looks like a Molliarty fanfic right now but I swear it is not! You will see more Sherlolly action in the upcoming chapter, promise! Reviews make my day by the way (: **_


	3. Back to Old Habits

_**A/N:**_ _English is not my native tongue so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing but this fanfiction. All rights go to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC and Steven Moffat. _

_**A/N**_**:** _This chapter has no Sherlolly or Molliarty. This chapter is all about Sherlock._

* * *

_**Two days later**_

Sherlock thought he knew where she was. Sherlock thought he was always right. Sherlock thought he would never made a mistake. But all these things were proved to be wrong. For the first time in his life, he was wrong about it all. From all the clues, from what he thought was right in front of him, he came to understood who kidnapped Molly and where they took her. And now with Lestrade, John and twenty police officers, he was standing in front of an old empty house with no sign of Molly or Moriarty. Sherlock, for the first time, was tricked. Moriarty wanted him to think that this was the place. Moriarty wanted him to fail. And he succeeded.

Sherlock cursed under his breath and left the place, going back to Molly's flat for more clues that he might have missed. The time was passing and it had been four days since Molly went missing. He had to be quick because he was afraid of what Moriarty could do to Molly. He had to look into everything. He had to dig deeper to solve this puzzle. To win this game. Because this was nothing but a simple, funny _game_ to James Moriarty.

* * *

_**Five Days After**_

Sherlock started using drugs again as he started smoking as well. He thought he failed Molly who helped him and stood by his side no matter what. Molly. His pathologist. The woman who counted for him. Actually the only woman who counted. He never managed to tell her how he actually felt about her. He never managed to tell her he cared so much for her. That's why he was in a big deep hole right now. He never talked to John about these stuff, he thought John wouldn't understand him. Plus, talking was no help. He just needed to find where they kept Molly. God, that insane psychopath could have done so much to her so far. It had been exactly nine days and Sherlock still had no idea about where she was. Lestrade was doing his best with the research but, let's face it, _his best_ was nothing compared to Sherlock's _average_. And now, Sherlock couldn't even think on an average level. Right now, he was even worse than that idiot Anderson.

With these thoughts, he unlocked the drawer of his work table. The only locked drawer in the entire house. Because he never wanted to open it again. He promised himself not to start using drugs after his mother's death and made Mrs. Hudson hide the key. That's why it was child's play to find the key. It didn't even take him a minute to figure it out.

He took everything in the drawer with him. Then he locked himself to the bedroom, took the needle out of it's box and filled it with morphine. When he stabbed the needle to his arm, it was only a matter of time for him to forget the world for a few hours.

* * *

It was a devastating scene in front of John.

When he couldn't find Sherlock anywhere at home, he went to Lestrade and asked about his whereabouts but he said he had no idea. Then he went to Bart's, to Molly's flat, to the café they always went. He was nowhere to be found. That's when he came back to Baker Street and noticed the locked door of Sherlock's bedroom. He knocked the door twice, got no answer and panicked. He had to break the door to get in. And there Sherlock was.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing and he didn't know what to do. With a needle on his arm, Sherlock was lying on the sofa, unconcious. There was six cigarette butts in the ash bucket and three nicotine patches on his left arm, right under where the needle was. The first thing John did was to check on his pulse. Thank God he was still alive. But he was pale and his lips were slightly purple which was enough to frighten John. He shouted for Mrs. Hudson who came immediately. While Mrs. Hudson was making soup for Sherlock, John was taking care of the needle on Sherlock's arm. After a few minutes Sherlock started mumbling weird stuff that made no sense.

"I… am so… sorry, Molly." Was the only sentence John could understand.

* * *

_**This chapter is a short one, I know but I had to show you guys the improvement of the characters. How Sherlock actually reacted to all of this, how he felt and what he had done about it. So, yeah… A longer chapter's coming soon, promise! (: **_

_**Reviews make my day by the way! (:**_


	4. It Was About Time

_**A/N:**_ _English is not my native tongue so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing but this fanfiction. All rights go to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC and Steven Moffat. _

* * *

"Damn you, Sherlock! You motherfucking bastard, you could have killed yourself! You could have died from overdose! What if I didn't find you, huh? What then? What did you think you were doing? Do you think this is going to help you find Molly? Are you an idiot?.."

From what John was saying, mostly all Sherlock heard was blah blah blah. After John giving the longest speech of his life to Sherlock, mostly swearing at him, they both started yelling at each other. Sherlock was not defending himself but he was trying to explain why he did it, why he used the drugs but John was not listening. Sherlock could have killed himself and that was all that mattered. Sherlock couldn't make him understand that he used the drugs to relax a little bit. _Just for a bit_. He wasn't going to use them more than once anyway. He just wanted to shut those feelings in his heart and thoughts in his mind. Not thinking about Molly for a second was going to help him enough to find out where they were keeping her but it didn't work either. No matter what, he couldn't focus on the details. All he thought about was Molly's wellbeing and he suspected that. Everybody was almost certain that Molly was not in a good condition right now. They all thought that she was being tortured by that wicked man James Moriarty. What they didn't know was that wasn't the deal _at all_.

* * *

Molly was having dinner with James. Not that she willingly sat on the dinner table with him, obviously. James told her if she didn't have dinner with her, she would spend rest of the day in the basement. And she never liked basements in her life. Who would like them anyway?

"Did you like the beaf, my dear?" James asked as he grinned wickedly.

Molly only nodded as an answer. She was counting the days so she knew that it had been nine days since she was kidnapped. The more days, hours, minutes passed, the more she lost faith. For a guy like Sherlock Holmes, it wasn't supposed to be so hard to find her, right? So why has it been so long? She was starting to think that he wasn't even looking for her. Maybe he wasn't even aware of her went missing.

She sighed and pushed her plate away. She didn't feel like eating anymore. She spent nine days with James who acted like he was actually Jim from IT. He didn't do anything wrong to her, didn't torture her or asked her where Sherlock was. He always said Sherlock will come around himself anyway. Molly was starting to think he was wrong. Sherlock wasn't coming.

"What's wrong, love?" James asked as he reached for her hand on the table.

Molly didn't even flinch when he did that. For someone who was sharing the bed with the same man, it would be stupid to flinch on a small touch on the hand. But no, they weren't having sex. James made a move on her on the first day but when he saw the desperate look on her eyes, and the tears, he gave up. He had no intention of hurting her. Because the one who he wanted to hurt was Sherlock.

_**Nine Days Ago**_

It was around one a.m. when James came to see Molly standing in front of the window again, looking outside. It was so obvious that she was waiting for someone to come for her. He touched her arm slightly and she backed away from him immediately. She didn't want him around her. She wished she had had a power to make people disappear.

"Come on." Was the only thing James said as he led the way to their bedroom. Molly was sleepy but knew what was coming so she panicked. The adrenaline was keeping her on the edge so when James wrapped his arm around her waist, she kicked him on the stomach as hard as she could. James let her go, coughing. Normally she would expect him to do something but all he did was to laugh. He was laughing and that made her freeze on her place. She felt like she had no strength to run at all. His laughter was just too scary for her to handle.

After laughing histerically, he grabbed her by the arm harshly and dragged her to the bed. He pushed her down on the mattress and placed himself in between her legs, opening them wide with force. She was struggling under him, screaming Sherlock's name over and over. James was pissed as hell. He put his hand on her mouth but that was a mistake because she bit his palm.

He groaned and slapped her. He was now undoing her t-shirt buttons and she was not strong enough. She was punching his chest, trying to bite his arms but none of them were enough to stop him.

When she was left naked, he took off all his clothes too. He touched her breasts and slowly made his way to her thighs. He was about to push himself into her when she started crying loudly.

"Please, Jim, _please_ don't." She begged. It was the first time she used that name to him since she was kidnapped. She always called him James or Moriarty. But now she called him Jim. It made him stop and stare at her.

"Gosh, you cry so much and you know how much I_ hate_ it!" he yelled at her and lied beside her. He wasn't going to try anything on her anymore. She used to be much funnier than this but now she was nothing more than a crybaby.

Molly was lying there, stunned, still crying. Her cries became silent as she turned away from him. She didn't even put her clothes on, she was feeling so tired. James sighed and pulled the sheets over both of them and wrapped his arm around her from the back. Molly didn't try to break free from his insistent hold because she knew she wouldn't succeed. She drifted away a few minutes later anyway.

_**Present**_

"Why are you still keeping me, Jim? He is not coming for me." Molly said, her voice turning into a whisper at the end.

Moriarty chuckled and let go of her hand. "Don't be stupid, Molls. He is going to come, trust me. he is just trying to solve the clues right now. I made it a little harder for him to figure out this time. I'm sure he's having a hard time with you gone. I mean, who would give him access to the morgue otherwise?"

Molly shivered. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm bored." Was his only answer. After dinner, they didn't talk at all because James spent most of his time planning new things with Moran. When it was finally time to go to bed, James—like always—led her the way. Molly excused herself and went to the bathroom, trying to relax herself with a hot bath. Yet, she couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock. What was he doing, was he searching for her, did he find the clues?.. The questions went on and on and when she was finally fed up with all these, she cried her lungs out.

* * *

After a long bath session with lots of crying, she wore the pyjamas one of James' maids gave her and went to bed. James was already there, eyes closed but obviously not sleeping. Molly sighed and lay beside him. She couldn't believe she was actually going into bed with this man who she hated more than anything else. But she had no other choice.

Like always James threw his arm around her body and pulled her closer to him. she could now feel his breath on her neck and she shivered. It had been a long time since someone held her like this. She sighed and relaxed herself in his arms before drifting away to a long sleep.

* * *

Sherlock jolted up straight on the bed and immediately made his way to John's room upstairs. He opened his door fiercely and let himself in while John was yelling at him for his rudeness.

"I know it! I finally know, _exactly know_ this time, where they took her! Call Lestrade, quick! We are going!" Sherlock shouted with excitement as he wore his trench coat. John, cursing at him, dressed up quickly and followed him out of the apartment. This time, John knew Sherlock actually found out where she was. It was about time.

* * *

_**Hi everyone! Well, I gotta admit, I am going to twist this story real bad in the next chapter, so beware! I reeeally need reviews as an inspiration by the way! Thanks for reading (: **_


	5. Surprise

_**A/N:**_ _English is not my native tongue so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing but this fanfiction. All rights go to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC and Steven Moffat. _

* * *

She was running in the woods, trying to find a place to hide desperately. Because they were coming for her. Those bad people were coming for her and she could do nothing about it. She was not aware she was seeing a nightmare so she was fighting with the blanket, slapping the bed under her. Her hands turned into fists as she greethed her teeth.

When Jim got out of the shower, he heard Molly screaming his name and dashed to the room to see Molly struggling with the blanket, her eyes half open. He immediately sat beside her and held her arms together, calling her name to wake her up. After a few seconds Molly became more relaxed.

"Jim…" she whispered.

"I am right here." He answered and kissed her forehead. That's when she slowly opened her eyes and jolted up to sit straight.

"Don't touch me." she said as she tried to break free from Moriarty's strong arms holding her. She started crying because she felt so tired, so broken and so desperate. She saw in her dream that Sherlock was coming for her, taking her back with him. she had no idea why the dream scared her so much. She was supposed to be happy. At least in her dream, someone was coming to take her back. Then why was she acting weird? These were questions she couldn't answer at the moment. So she didn't care. She started crying in the arms of Jim as he whispered soothing words to her. At that moment, she just didn't care. It felt good to have someone with her. Because in the end, she had no one at all.

* * *

Sebastian Moran saw the cops and immediately ordered everyone to be ready. They didn't think Sherlock and his men would come so early. Jim said he would spend at least two more days trying to figure out where Molly was. clearly he was wrong.

Moran barged in to the bedroom. "Lestrade and his men came with Sherlock and the Doctor!" he barked at Jim.

Jim's eyes opened wide with surprise but was replaced with something sinister. He grinned and looked at Molly.

"I guess they finally came for you, my dear Molly."

He told Sebastian to take Molly to the dining room and he did. Moran was now looking at Molly who was doing nothing but stare at her hands, crying silently. She was hearing Lestrade and John yelling at the cops to block the back door of the house, in case Moriarty tried to escape. But he was not going to do such thing. All he wanted was a little chit-chat with Sherlock.

"If you don't give me ten minutes with Sherlock Holmes, Molly will die!" he barked at Lestrade and narrowed his eyes. He was bluffing but nobody would understand that. After all he was a psychopath, he could do anything.

Sherlock stepped closer to Moriarty. They shared a look and then Sherlock nodded. When everybody stayed outside, they went inside to the dining room.

"Go and keep an eye on the Doctor." Said Jim to Moran. When Molly, Sherlock and Jim were left alone in the room, Jim laughed.

"My clues were there to mislead you Sherlock. How did you find where she was?" he asked.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "They misled me at first anyway. But then I digged deeper. When you and I were talking on the phone, I listened nothing but the background noises coming from the other line. That's when I understood you were somewhere near the sea, probably on the countryside. And of course then I noticed the few clothes you took for Molly from her flat. They were all t-shirts and trousers, and a few jumpers. So I thought the place you brought her wasn't so cold but wasn't so hot either. That's when I knew you were in this big plain mansion, away from the city and an hour away from Baker's Street. You thought Molly would find peace here?" Then Sherlock glanced at Molly. "But as I see, she isn't wearing any of the clothes you brought her from her own flat. Interesting. Why is she wearing the clothes of one of your maids?"

Jim stood there frozen for a second but then started clapping, laughing at the same time. "Marvelous, marvelous!" he kept clapping and after some time it became annoying. Sherlock wasn't going to stand there and watch it so he jumped on Jim who was taken aback. They started struggling, punching and kicking each other on the ground. Molly was watching the scene in front of her with wide eyes. The man she loved was being beaten and she was just standing there watching it. No, she was stronger than that. So she took the vase on the table and without the two men noticing, moved closer to them.

"Let. Him. Go." She screamed with anger and hit him on the head with the vase as hard as she could. The vase was broken and a few pieces were stabbed to her palm but she didn't care.

"What the hell are you doing, Molly?"

With the question, Jim's laughter filled the whole room and he stood up. He fixed his suit and looked at Sherlock who was lying on the ground with a bleeding head. A few cops were going to come in soon, Jim knew that because there was no way nobody heard what happened in here. So he took Molly's hand and kissed it. She blushed with the little gesture.

"You didn't take it into account, now did you, Sherlock?" Jim asked and kicked him in the stomach. Sherlock coughed and saw blood coming out of his mouth. Nope, he wasn't in a good condition.

Thank God John dashed into the room and immediately saw Sherlock. John was about to punch Jim when Lestrade stopped him fiercely.

"You're under arrest…" "Give Molly back!" "…for kidnapping a woman…" "God's sake, what have you done to Sherlock?"

Lestrade and John were talking at the same time so it was a little hard to understand what they were saying. John kneeled down beside Sherlock and took his pulse like he always did first.

"Give Molly back? Well, Detective Inspector, if she wants me to hand her to you, then that's fine." Jim said and shrugged.

Lestrade hesitated for a bit but then held Molly's arm and pulled her closer but she screamed and backed away from him. molly wasn't even aware of what was happening. Her mind and heart were both screaming different things and she felt like she was letting the small piece of mind left on her slip. She stared at Lestrade who was taken aback by her actions. Then she stared at John who had a confused look on his face. Tears began falling down from her eyes. She was just understanding what she had just done. She hit Sherlock with a vase. And he was now bleeding. God, how could she do such thing? And the worst part was that she did it for Jim. James Moriarty. Who destroyed the lives of a bunch of people starting with Sherlock's.

John's face became pale as he understood what was going on. He swallowed hard as he closed his eyes. _No, no, no_. This wasn't happening. _This wasn't…_

Moriarty, as if he heard John's thoughts, answered him. "Yes, _it_ _is_ what you think it is, Doctor. Molly was alone, on a very bad stage of her life. Sherlock was treating her like trash and she had no hope or faith left in her. Then I took her in. We spent ten beautiful days together, we ate dinner together, we _slept_ together…" Jim looked at Sherlock to see his reaction and grinned when he saw Sherlock's eyes open wide. "I gave her what she most wanted. _Company_."

Sherlock and Lestrade were looking at both John and Jim, trying to figure out what was going on. Lestrade couldn't get the full picture yet and because Sherlock was bleeding, he wasn't able to concentrate. Things felt like happening in a different, as if Sherlock wasn't actually there.

John sighed and cleared the situation for everyone. "_Stockholm Syndrome._ You planned all of this! From the very beginning, you knew what was going to happen! You knew she was going to associate with you!"

Jim clapped him and then saluted them as if he just finished an act on stage. "Brilliant, isn't it?" Then he looked at Sherlock who was looking right into his eyes. "I told you, Sherlock. I told you I would burn the heart out of you."

Everybody stared at him, trying to figure out what their next move should be. Molly didn't look like she was going to let go of Jim and they had to be careful about it. But all of them only had this thought; _What are we going to do now?_

* * *

_**DON'T SHOOT ME! This is all Jim's doing, not me! More Sherlolly in the next chapter by the way, and the next chapter will probably be the last one. So I reeeally need reviews for inspiration! Thanks for reading (: **_

_**P.S. : I only now a few things about Stockholm Syndrome and I found them all on the internet. So, I guess it might be a short time period for Molly to fall in love with the captor/Jim but she was once in love with him so I thought it wouldn't be so hard for her to associate with him again… Apologies for any mistakes on that topic! (: **_


	6. Happy Ending

_**A/N:**_ _English is not my native tongue so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any._

**Disclaimer:** _I own nothing but this fanfiction. All rights go to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC and Steven Moffat. _

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John was yelling at Moriarty and Greg was trying to help Sherlock get up from the ground. A few cops came into the dining room in a rush but when they saw this was much more private then they thought, they all left the room. Of course both Moran's and Lestrade's men were waiting in front of the door in case of an emergency. Like; if both sides decided to kill each other, they would break the door and stop them both. Nobody was going to die tonight.

But to Molly, her inner fight was bigger than the fight going on in front of her eyes. None of these mattered. She only thought of Sherlock who was looking at her like she was an alien. It still broke her heart for some reason she didn't understand. She loved _Jim_. Right? So why the worry about Sherlock Holmes, the man who treated her like trash for the past couple of years? Let's make it 5 years exactly.

She sighed as she took a step back from everybody. That's when John ran towards Moriarty and jumped right on him while Greg tried to stop him with his best. Sherlock knew this was his only chance to approach Molly and talk her into some sense.

He stopped when he was right in front of her. She looked up to see his determined eyes and felt like she was drowning in them… just like the old days.

"Molly." He whispered and put his hands on her shoulders. He wanted to shake her, get her to think straight but he knew she wouldn't accept anything right now. He knew he had to be careful with her, with the situation and everything. "Molly, please look at me."

Molly looked up to see those cold blue eyes staring into hers with sadness she never witnessed before. He had purple circles under his eyes which were bloodshot from the lack of sleep. She had no idea why she was looking at him so carefully, observing him like a new project. Maybe she just missed him and she had no idea about that.

"How do you feel? Are you okay? Did he do anything wrong to you?"

He was asking too many questions too sudden but he couldn't hold himself back. He had to know she was in one piece inside too. She looked quite healthy from outside but nobody could know what was going on in her mind. She was a strong girl, he knew that but she was weak when it came to two men. Moriarty and Sherlock himself. He sighed and cupped her cheeks with his big, caloused hands.

"Look at me and tell me you feel nothing for me anymore. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

Molly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her brain was screaming that she indeed had no feelings for him anymore but her heart was screaming otherwise. She knew she never loved another. It had always been Sherlock no matter what. His behaviour was cold, cruel, heartbreaking but none of those were a big deal for her. It was his nature and she accepted him that way. She fell in love with him knowing all of these.

"I—I can't…" she whispered, a single teardrop falling from her left eye.

Sherlock spent no time and hugged her tight, making her feel comfortable in his arms. Molly, after a long time, inhaled his scent to her lungs and smiled against his body. But then she remembered what it was like to hug Jim while sleeping, then she remembered his scent and then she remembered the kiss they shared.

_**3 Hours Ago**_

Her nightmare was a disaster. It left her numb and for some time, she couldn't get a hold of herself. Then she found herself crying in Moriarty's arms. But it felt soothing and relaxing which made her sink in his safety. It was just beautiful to feel safe and comfortable once in a while.

"You better?" Jim asked as he lifted up her chin with his thumb to look at her face. Her eyes were swollen from crying and her nose was red like a reindeers'. She probably had no idea of how cute she looked.

Molly only nodded as an answer. Jim was fed up restraining himself. He leaned into her and stopped when his lips were a few inches away from her lips. He looked into her eyes as she did the same, scared but excited at the same time. When he kissed her lips, she remembered how soft his lips were. She remembered how they gently moved on top of hers. She remembered when his tongue wanted her permission for entrance, he would get excited. He would get passionate. All of a sudden, he would change from the gentle guy he was. All of these were what she loved about him back in the day. He was different. He had nothing in common with Sherlock. No, that wasn't true. They _had_ one thing in common. That was that they were the most intelligent people on earth.

_**Present**_

When Molly was still feeling the warmth of Jim's lips on hers, she found Sherlock's on hers. She was dumbfounded. Why was he kissing her anyway? To make her feel like the old days? Was that even possible? At that point, Sherlock didn't really give much thought to it. He just followed his heart and kissed her. It had been ten days since she was kidnapped. Ten fucking days. He was supposed to have found her earlier. Way earlier than this. But because his feelings were in the way, he just couldn't find her easily. These days he couldn't even recognise himself. Since when he felt sentiment he had got no idea.

Before Molly could push him back, she heard Jim scream Sherlock's name and the second thing she knew was Jim was on top of Sherlock on the ground, punching him as hard as he could. She was watching the scene in front of her with wide eyes. Lestrade came and pulled her from her arm, not listening to her squeaks or complaints about being dragged out of the room. But Molly managed to escape from his hold and ran through Jim and Sherlock, grabbing Jim from his jacket.

"Jim! Stop it!" she was yelling and pulling him off of Sherlock at the same time. The kiss actually affected her more than she thought it would. It had always been her fantasy to share a kiss with Sherlock, sometimes more than a kiss. And now she had it, she felt weird. Why was she even comparing his kiss to Jim's? Wasn't James Moriarty the one to make everything a hell? He ruined everything and yet she was now thinking about loving him. This was wrong, all wrong.

When suddenly she found Jim's arm wrapped around her neck, holding her tight with a knife in his other hand, she knew none of this was right whatsoever. She struggled to get free from his tight hold but couldn't.

"Don't come closer Sherlock or I will kill you and her both!"

That made him stop right on his tracks. Suddenly the room was filled with nothing but that awful silence they all hated. Jim was not kidding when he said he would kill them both. Because he was insane and just didn't care about anyone but himself. Molly was a stupid _stupid_ girl for him. He actually thought she fell for him again but seemingly he was wrong. The minute Sherlock kissed her, she was again the mousy little girl who had fantasies about Sherlock Holmes. Jim would never forgive such thing.

Then there was a loud gun shot. When blood came to Molly's hands, she knew right behind her, Jim was dying from the shot right to his head. She broke free from his tight hold and saw Moran and his men came into the room with a rush, shooting everyone. But the policemen came to rescue and then suddenly all Molly saw was a big number of people were fighting, running, shooting… When Sherlock grabbed Molly and dragged her out of the room when no one was seeing them, all she felt was this weird feeling inside her. She felt dizzy, she felt confused and at some point she just couldn't feel her legs anymore. And then the rest was all a blur.

* * *

When she woke up, there was no one in the room but her. The moment she saw the couch she was lying on, she knew she was in the living room of Baker Street. She pushed the blanket on her away and stood up, looking around the room suspiciously. She felt like in any minute someone would appear out of nowhere and kidnap her once again. She sighed as she approached the window, opening the curtain to look outside. The sun was slowly rising, the first lights of the day were showing themselves. Tears started falling down from her eyes as she remembered everything that happened in the last eleven days. She had been kidnapped, used, mentally abused… And the worst part was, because she was so alone and so vulnurable, she fell in love with that psychopath _once again_. She actually owed Sherlock big for waking her up from this nightmare. She never thought he would actually come looking for her… or _kiss_ her.

Sherlock opened the door and let himself in, closing the door behind him silently. Molly tensed when she heard him come in, waiting for a long speech of how stupid she was. Instead, Sherlock put his arms around her waist and looked outside the window with her. She couldn't get herself to relax under his hold because she had no idea why he was doing it.

"Don't pity me, if you do." She whispered, not exactly finding her voice at that moment.

Sherlock pouted. "Molly, I save you from the hands of a maniac, I kiss you and now I'm hugging you. Is that really the right thing to say right now?"

Molly turned around to face him but Sherlock didn't let go of her. He rested his hands on her hips, trying to comfort her.

"Why are you doing this then, Sherlock? For a guy who never noticed me before, you are acting suspicious." She said as she narrowed her eyes.

Sherlock sighed. "Look, Molly. I know I treated you bad and insulted you in many ways. But… You never understand the value of something until it is lost. And when I thought I lost you…" he became silent. It was just too hard for him to express his feelings. He was never good in that area. "I… I was… I was _scared_, Molly. I couldn't think. Ten days… It was like hell. I wasn't able to think straight and that's why I found you so late. I thought I lost you. Then I saw the loving look you gave to Moriarty…" He put his hands on her shoulders before going on. "That moment, I knew if I didn't do something, you would be gone forever from my hands. I couldn't bare it. You have always been more than a collague for me, Molly. I always noticed you. _I always notice you_. I just didn't let you see it."

Molly looked up at him and saw his blue eyes looking right into hers. "Please. Please if you're only saying these to let me hear what I want to hear—"

Her sentence was cut with his lips on hers, kissing her passionately. That was when Molly felt like Sherlock was sincere. She felt like this was her first kiss. It felt hot and tender at the same time and it made her feel dizzy. Sherlock locked his arms around her so she wouldn't break away from the kiss. Not that she thought of that. She was the happiest person on earth for kissing the guy she loved for years now. And when they made love in bed, kissing and touching every inch of each other, she felt like this was her first time for everything. They were going to make a fresh start and this time, there was no one to interfere. John took care of Moriarty and finally he went to the place he deserved; hell. The only unlucky thing was that Moran managed to escape but that wouldn't be a problem for too long, he was seriously injured and eventually Sherlock would find him anyway. Sherlock knew that, with Molly beside him, he was capable of anything.

He _cared_ more than anyone thought.

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_**Happy ending! YAAY! LOL Thanks for reading so far and… see you on another Sherlolly fanfic! (: **_

_**A/N : I didn't really wanted to go in the details of Moriarty being arrested and Moran getting away because I thought Sherlolly is the most important part in this story. I had to write a lot Molliarty in this story so I just wanted this last part to be all Sherlolly. I hope you enjoyed it (:**_


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